* Constructive criticism and reviews are always welcomed.

Tenacity

Din didn't know the woman's species, or her language, much less her name. It didn't exactly matter to him, given that this voyage would only last a few short days. He wasn't annoyed with her. He was annoyed by the whole situation. The lack of hyperspace made for slow travel, and he felt like he had been coerced into this task. Also, he and the Child weren't used to having strangers on board.

When the flight was as stable as it was going to get, he set it to autopilot so that he could get some sleep. Dropping down into the hull, he opened the hatch to the sleeping quarters. To his confusion, the hammock above the bunk was empty, but there were only so many places on the ship that the Child could scamper off to.

Din found him gripping the edge of the canister that housed the Frog Lady's eggs. Its lid was completely open, and he was dipping his hand inside to pick one out.

Knowing exactly what was about to happen, Din jogged towards him, frantically repeating the word 'no' to him. It didn't matter how much he didn't like this situation. These were still a mother's eggs, and he agreed to see this mission through. Just as the Child was swallowing one of them, Din slammed the lid closed and sealed it. "That is not food," he said firmly, picking him up. "Don't do that again."

The Child burped.

He sighed a little, and tucked him in the crook of his elbow. "Naptime," he muttered to him, and walked back over to the sleeping quarters. Given the kid's appetite for frogs, it should've been no surprise that the eggs were fair game in his eyes. Therefore, it wasn't exactly something that Din could fault him for. During this voyage, he would have to keep a close eye on him.

After being placed in the hammock, the Child made a sort of trilling noise that might or might not have been in protest. After making sure he stayed put, Din ducked into the bunk, and closed the hatch. Pressing a few buttons on the panel, he only shut off a few of the lights. He needed to sleep, but he also wanted to remain alert, given that there was an extra passenger on board. Light dozing would have to do, though it was doubtful that the Frog Lady would cause much trouble.

From the hammock, Din could hear a string of grumpy mumbles. Half-asleep, he shushed the Child gently. A few minutes later, there was a light thud as something landed at the foot of the bunk. Din huffed, shaking his head a little. Near-silent footsteps were approaching his helmet, close to where the control panel was. That's when he opened his eyes, and he watched the Child reach for the button to open the hatch.

He grumbled, "You act like I don't feed you sometimes."

Hearing his voice, the Child's ears twitched dramatically, and his hand dropped. He mumbled stubbornly, not only because he'd been caught, but because Din had picked him up and put him back in the hammock.

"Go to sleep, kid," he said. "I'll fix you another meal when you wake up." He assumed that was a good compromise. And the Child seemed to understand, given how quickly he settled and closed his eyes.

Damn those x-wing officers.

Damn this mission. Damn this icy, snowy, deathtrap of a planet.

Damn the wrong decisions he had made in the past that caused this domino effect of pure hellishness.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have fled from those officers. But the Razor Crest had been involved in a prison break a couple months back, and he doubted anything good would've happened if he had complied. He would've been imprisoned, and the mission to get the Frog Lady back to her husband would've been all for naught.

Worst of all, the officers would've separated him from the Child. They would have no reason to imprison an infant. Din would probably never see him again, and would never know what became of him. It was safe to say that he'd either be put up for adoption, or put on display somewhere. Din understood very little of the New Republic, but he knew that it could go either way. It was a vicious reality, and as the Child's protector, it didn't sit well with him in any capacity.

So, he fled.

The Razor Crest wasn't made for a quick getaway. He had to use all the tricks he knew, doing everything in his power to ditch the officers. He knew his ship inside and out. He was always aware of the extent of its capabilities, and he was pushing it to the very brink. He had no idea what the damage was going to look like.

After landing, opening up a crevasse, and falling straight through it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

When the Razor Crest slammed into the ground, Din's head collided against the control panel.

When he came to, he first noticed how blisteringly cold it was, and that a layer of ice briefly made him stick to the control panel. None of that made sense, because his ship was supposed to be climate controlled. He took a second to glance around, and then pushed a few switches and buttons, trying to assess how much power they had.

His ship didn't respond.

How long he'd been out, he had no idea. But the absolute next thing he needed to do was get down into the hull. He had to make sure that the Child was okay, as well as the Frog Lady's eggs. When he jumped down into the hull, he was…

…There were almost no words.

A hole had been punched through one of the walls, almost floor to ceiling. It allowed frigid wind to shove its way inside the ship. A thin layer of snow covered almost every surface of the cargo area, like dust in an abandoned homestead.

"…Damn it," Din muttered in devastation. Not only was his home completely compromised, but what of the Child? He had been down here during every minute of that chaos.

He spun to face the sleeping quarters, hoping with everything he had that his foundling had managed to survive this. He opened the hatch, and he found that the hammock was empty, with the blanket draped haphazardly over the side. After a swift inspection, he saw that the entire bunk was empty. This didn't help him. At all.

"Where are you," he asked, trying to ignore the emotional strain in his voice.

Stepping carefully through the wreckage, and being mindful of loose wires, he rapidly looked around, until a gulping sound met his ears. He followed it, and pulled back a tarp. In doing so, he not only found the canister of eggs, but also the Child, who was once again eating them.

It was astounding, Din found, that one could feel both sheer relief and total exasperation in a single second. "No," he scolded, taking the canister away from him. "No. I told you not to do that." He looked at the canister, noticing that quite a few eggs were missing.

He looked down at the Child, who unabashedly swallowed another one. "How many did you eat," he asked morbidly.

Another burp was the response.

Why the Child was choosing now to be more ravenous than usual, he had no idea. Maybe there was something instinctual about eating frogs, something to do with his species. And Din realized...that he still didn't know that much about him. His species, his past, or his people.

A gust of wind blasting through the hull and the Child's squeak of discomfort as he ducked down put their situation back into perspective.

Din called up to the cockpit for the Frog Lady to come down. He placed the canister on top of a cargo box. He then picked up the Child and sat him down close by. Grabbing the tarp, he draped it over the hole and shoved stacks of boxes in front of it to hold it in place.

A whine made him turn his head. The Child was leaning forward, staring longingly at the canister. Thinking quickly, before the kid got up to anymore mischief, Din retrieved a few small meal boxes from a storage container. The food in these were rations. While they provided energy, they weren't very filling, and he only liked to bring them out as a last resort, or if they were in a dicey situation. He gave one to the Frog Lady and she graciously nodded.

He passed another to the Child, who scowled at him.

"I thought you were hungry," Din asked him sarcastically, earning him yet another stubborn grumble from the kid.

While they ate, Din moved around the ship, alternating between the hull and the cockpit. He was pretty much just pacing. But as he went, he had to see what was running, what still had power, but it was a futile effort. His ship couldn't even idle. Some lights were on, but they were just the emergency ones.

There was no background hum.

Just the howling wind outside.

Din stopped, and leaned the palm of his hand heavily against a wall.

His ship – formidable and tenacious – was now absolutely lifeless.

On this planet, its sunlight was dim, and getting dimmer with every passing hour. Even through all his armor that kept him adequately warm, he could feel that the temperature was steadily dropping.

Din spoke to the Child and the Frog Lady, giving them a swift rundown of the damage, even though it probably went right over their heads. In actuality, he was the one who needed to hear the damage out loud. It not only kept him humble, but it was also a reminder. A reminder of...

He sighed tensely. Well, at least everyone was alright. Honestly, it was a miracle they all survived the crash. Yet they did, and it resulted in all of them shivering against the unrelenting cold.

He sat down on the floor, in front of the tarp, using his back to keep a loose corner in place. The Frog Lady tried to speak to him, but he had no idea what she was saying. He sure as hell didn't have the energy to even attempt to decipher her. He crossed his arms and turned away, ready to get a little rest.

He heard cooing. While he didn't respond, he still kept an ear out, listening to the light footsteps. Seconds later, he felt movement against his side. Glancing down, he saw the Child ducking under his cape. He crawled closer, until he could snuggle against Din's side, just beneath his elbow. As he settled there, his eyelids drooped and he made contented trilling noises.

Din was absolutely still. It didn't make sense that the Child was doing this. He was more observant than most gave him credit for. Surely he had to know who was responsible for all of this.

When it came to self-pity, he was out of practice.

After some time, evening approached, and he had yet to fall asleep. The temperature continued to drop. The Child was shivering against him, his eyes now clenched uncomfortably. Din moved the cape, covering him until only his face was exposed. His shivering lessened, but it was only a small bit of comfort to Din. It introduced yet another harsh reality.

Trapped in a pit, without his ship to lift them out, they very well could die here.

He had no idea what he was going to do. Hopelessness, helplessness, whatever one wanted to call it, was such a horrific feeling to him. He would reassess everything later, but it was completely possible that there was nothing he could do.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes squeezed shut.

…It was a reminder that he had caused all of this. Because of his stubborn recklessness, they were stranded here.

This was all his fault.

He had underestimated the Frog Lady. As it turned out, she knew the inner mechanics of droids. Din had a deceased one on board, from the prison break all those months ago. It was almost completely dismantled, and he thought he would use its parts for something one of these days.

She used its vocabulator to speak to him. She urged him that she needed to get back to her husband.

Din hadn't exactly given up. Once he got the psychological strength to stand again, he would definitely reassess their chances of survival. But he was realistic, and a little pessimistic in situations like this. In his mind, the mission wasn't a success, and that they might not even get off this planet. He needed to mentally prepare her for that.

Her response grated on his nerves more than he would ever admit. She said, "I thought honoring one's word was a part of the Mandalorian code. I guess those are just stories for children."

Din stared at her. She couldn't see it, but he wasn't blinking, too many conflicting thoughts running rampant in his skull.

A squeak met his ears. He looked down at the Child, who was still sitting next to him. His ears were positioned outward, and he stared up at Din concernedly.

Dank farrik.

Din sighed harshly. Well, no time like the present. And there was no harm in trying. Not like he had anything better to do. He moved the Child out of the way and stood up with a grunt. After snatching up a box of tools, he shoved the tarp away and stepped outside while muttering that none of this was part of the deal.

On the one hand, he was now being slightly proactive. On the other, he almost wished he wasn't outside, because now he could see every bit of the damage.

His ship was covered in shards of ice, the siding looked like it had been chewed up and spat back out, and it was leaking vital fluids onto the snow. It was a damned mess. He circled the ship, and he noticed that the hole they'd fallen into had numerous tunnel entrances. Probably just other crevasses, and wouldn't be worth the energy to explore.

For the Razor Crest, he couldn't repair the structural integrity, but the smaller stuff, like the leak, was doable. And perhaps, if he got some of the power working, he could bring some climate control back to the inside of the ship. It might not help get them off the ground, but it would provide some heat.

He knelt down in the snow, and started doing what little he could for his ship.

Whether it was babbles, whines, or coos, whether it was sounds of indignation, stubbornness, or playfulness, the noises the Child made always got Din's attention, without fail. And he always responded in some way. He never saw a reason not to.

Still kneeling in the snow, he was welding the side of his ship. Above the sharp crackling of the tool, he heard the Child, clear as always. And he immediately looked in his direction. The Child was standing near the bow of the ship. Whining a string of urgent babbles and gesticulating with both arms, with his left hand staying up in the air.

While Din was certainly listening, he currently didn't have the patience to decipher him. He was in the middle of trying to fix the ship's radiator. Not freezing to death took precedence.

The words that left Din's mouth weren't meant to be mean-spirited. While his tone was neutral, and while he never raised his voice, it still held heavy sarcasm. "How about you come over here, give me a hand. Make yourself useful." He resumed welding.

Over the sound of the sparks crackling, he heard the disappointed burble. Not upset, not afraid. Just disappointed.

Din's mouth was a thin line as shame crept to the surface.

The Child was disappointed that he hadn't responded the way he should.

Suddenly, the Child started walking away, still babbling, mostly to himself now. Call it gut instinct, but Din knew straight away that he wasn't walking back inside the hull.

"Hey, kid," he said. When the Child disappeared to the other side of the ship, he dropped everything, the welder landing unceremoniously in the snow. "I said hey," he exclaimed, standing up and trudging after him. "Where are you going? Come back here!"

Instead of wandering off, the Child had stopped about a dozen feet away, and was staring purposefully in a single direction. Unmoving.

Din temporarily pushed whatever stress he'd been feeling to the back of his mind, letting intrigue and instincts take over. He couldn't remember the last time the Child had been so still and so quiet. Din's strides were calmer now, but still purposeful as he walked towards the Child.

Other than for the crunch of his boots, the only other noise was the wind. It was howling somewhere above their heads, probably on the planet's surface. Even the snow had ceased. It almost seemed like the weather itself was leaving them alone for the time being. It allowed for a peaceful moment, one that was very much needed, like taking a deep breath.

Din knelt down next to the Child, trying to see what he was seeing, to understand what he'd so clearly been trying to tell him before. When the Child noticed this, he looked up at him, twitched his ears, and muttered, before putting his attention back on the ground. Before them was a set of tracks leading away from the Razor Crest. Din analyzed them and realized that they were the size of the Frog Lady's feet.

He looked down at the Child. "When did she go," he asked him.

His ears perked up, as if waiting for a question. Another series of urgent babbles. He yet again pointed with his left hand, in the direction of one of the narrow caves. Din switched his visor to thermal imaging, and saw that the tracks led straight into it.

He wasn't sure why the Frog Lady decided to leave the ship. What mattered was that he was a man of his word. He was supposed to provide a safe voyage for her and her eggs. Obviously, that wasn't going well, but he still couldn't let anything happen to her if he could help it.

The Child's babbles tapered as Din scooped him up and tucked him in the crook of his elbow. The Child practically sank against him, going quiet again as they entered the cavern.

This winding network of ice was a maze, plain and simple. The only reason they didn't get turned around was because Din could follow the trail of footprints. It was an eerie place, where the wind couldn't reach them. The peaceful silence turned foreboding.

Din tightened his grip around the Child, making sure he remained snug against his chest. The palm of his hand was clasped gently around his tiny bare feet, not only to support him but also as a barrier against the cold. Since entering the cave, the Child had gone silent, and it concerned Din like nothing else. While the Child wasn't distressed or distant, it still wasn't normal for him to be acting like this. Guiltily, Din wondered if he had caused it.

He exhaled, and he turned his arm so he could look the Child in the eyes. His voice was a murmur. "I'm sorry. About earlier." He paused. "That was uncalled for." He wasn't an apologetic person by nature. His lifestyle and ruthless actions never left much room for it, but sometimes it was necessary. Right now, it definitely was, and he meant it. He knew he had plenty of other things to be sorry for, but this would have to do for now.

The Child tilted his head at him. After a moment, and with a soft coo, he smiled a little.

Din huffed, a short exhale of relief. It was good that he had been forgiven – if he was interpreting that correctly. Although, he was a firm believer that apologies were useless without action. That words alone couldn't make up for it. Therefore, when they got back to the ship, he would do everything he could to get it powered on. He doubted that it would be able to fly, but he would do what he could. They weren't going to succumb to this, not if Din had a say in it. The plan for tonight was to sleep, and in the morning he would resume the repairs.

First, though, they had to find the Frog Lady.

As they walked through the caverns, another sound from the Child was heard. It was a sharp growl, coming from his belly. The Child whined.

"Let me guess," Din muttered. "You didn't eat any of that ration meal." There were rare moments where the Child wouldn't touch food. Normally, it was because he deemed something to be inedible, or if there was something better nearby.

The Child's babble was grumpy.

He sighed. "When we get back to the ship, we can eat some of that dragon meat that Peli had cooked."

The Child's ears perked up, and he let out an enthusiastic coo.

The Frog Lady had chosen a hot spring to rest in. She had taken her eggs out of the canister to also let them bask in it. Din tried to reason with her, saying that he couldn't adequately protect her out in the open. He managed to convince her, and while they started to put the eggs back in the canister, the Child walked around the cavern. Din had no complaints about this. For once, the Child was ignoring the eggs.

At first, Din thought he was exercising self-control, until he heard him cry out, an abnormal shriek that was panicked. Din snapped his head towards him, giving him his full attention. The Child was running towards him.

All around them in the snow were shapes that vaguely resembled teardrops. They shook and crackled, until they all split open, one by one. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of scrawny arachnids emerged from each one.

Before the Child could run face first into his ankle, Din caught him and held him close.

The spiders gradually surrounded them. Larger ones soon appeared, including one that was the size of the Razor Crest.

What choice did they have? They ran, all the way back to the ship, with a nest of starving spiders at their heels. Din's flamethrower and blaster didn't even make a dent. As soon as they were inside the hull, the only goal was to lock themselves inside the cockpit, and hope that by some miracle the repairs he'd made thus far would be enough to get them off the ground and onto the planet's surface. It was wishful thinking, but everyone on board all had something in common.

The Frog Lady had been determined to provide a better life for her offspring. The Child had been determined to eat her eggs. And Din was willing to do whatever it took to find the Child's people.

None of them knew when to give up.

As Din powered up the ship, the Child climbed up the side of the pilot's seat and onto his lap. Lights and buttons flickered. Screens were full of static. And the hums and rumbles of the ship were garbled and sharp. Nonetheless, the power was on. Not only that, but the engines also responded, and from within in the cockpit, Din could hear them roaring.

He couldn't allow himself a moment to rejoice. Spiders were crawling and scrabbling all over the ship. They weren't out of danger yet, not by a long shot.

The largest spider, presumably the parent of the nest, landed directly on top of them, and pinned the ship back to the ground. It was doing everything it could to break through the windshield of the cockpit.

Din held the Child tightly, and he listening to the fearful coos. His mind raced as he stared at the behemoth above their heads. What weapons did he have in the cockpit? Was his ship even capable of anything else?

The spider lunged at the glass a few times, but it never broke through.

The x-wing officers returned, and they used their heavy artillery to make quick work of every single spider in the vicinity, large and small, until they were all dead or fleeing. Din exited the ship, beyond confused as to why they were helping him, a supposed fugitive.

Irony was cruel, bitter, and had a maniacal sense of humor. For once, Din almost felt like laughing.

As it turned out, the officers had pursued him with the intention of only questioning him. They were inquiring about Mayfeld and the other members of his group, the ones Din had thrown in a cell after they'd double-crossed him. On top of it all, Din had tried to protect a lieutenant that day. It was all for the sake of self-preservation, but he said nothing as the officers brought all this up.

Even though the Razor Crest had been used to break into that prison, the officers decided not to arrest him, as a small token of their gratitude. That was all they did before flying away, leaving Din to contend with even more ship damages. Covered in snow and cobwebs, he did what he always did. He got to work, and forged on. If he could get the ship working by just repairing some of the outside, then he could certainly do further repairs within the cockpit. That might be all they needed to get out of there.

As he worked on the ship, the Child watched from where he was perched on the console. His eyes were wide with fascination as he watched the sparks showering through the air. Occasionally, he acted like he wanted to reach out for it, but Din would always turn slightly to avoid that from happening.

At some point, he needed to go back outside and climb on top of the ship to seal the framing of the windshield. For a while, the Child observed from inside the cockpit, but eventually he tried to follow him. After the glass was fixed, Din climbed back down. Welder in one hand, he picked up the Child with the other and carried him back inside the hull.

On top of a cargo box was a small bowl. A few minutes ago, it had some cooked dragon meat in it, but was now empty. After putting the tool back in its box, Din briefly inspected the bowl before setting it and the Child down.

"Give me a second," Din told him as he rifled through a storage container. "We'll bring some food up into the cockpit."

Using the satchel, he started gathering necessary provisions for the remainder of the voyage. Due to the current state of the hull, they wouldn't be able to come down here until they landed again.

An annoyed whine made him pause. He looked up to see the Child scratching roughly at his neck, something clearly bothering him. Din went over to him and knelt down. "Hold still," he said, gently pushing his hand aside so that he could take a look.

Just under his chin, beneath the collar of his tunic, was a severed spider leg.

Din scowled slightly in disgust. The Child on the other hand wanted to grab it from him. Not knowing what he even wanted to do with it, Din tossed it away to an unknown part of the ship. He stood up, and went back to the storage containers.

A few minutes later, crunching met his ears.

The Child had found the spider leg, and it was hanging out of his mouth as he took his time chewing on it.

Din sighed. "Can you please stop eating things that you shouldn't?" It wasn't really a question. At this point, it was an exasperated plea.

The Child swallowed, and he looked at the floor. His head was tilted in deep contemplation.

When he looked up at Din again, he let out a burp, and a small giggle as the noise echoed through the hull.